


Searching for other Rivers

by DragonSteel



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSteel/pseuds/DragonSteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all Elizabeths are so willing to die for the greater good</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searching for other Rivers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tacky_tramp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacky_tramp/gifts).



> Hi!  
> This is my third Yuletide, and it's always fun, if challenging. I hope my requester likes this, I tried for a Dark Elizabeth that was still very close to her character.  
> I haven't played Burial at Sea yet, but this is somewhat inspired by what little I heard of the plot

 

 

There were, of course, universes where they didn’t exist. The exact right combination of genes and circumstances simply failed to occur. Moreso were the times/places where they… were simply unrecognizable. Nature versus nurture and all that. Fascinating, if one were in the right sort of mood. Oft times it was simply nauseating. A Lutece who couldn’t read, let alone contemplate advanced mathematics, or who died a short and pointless life in an opium den.

 

They were aware of how fragile it all was. So many variables, a mere glance in the mirror away from a woman bruised and pregnant, eyes empty of life with a belly full to bursting with it. Rosalind refused to speak of that universe, which Robert found far more disturbing than the few glimpses they had caught before fleeing.

 

At times he jealously stared at the Roberts who had found each other instead of a Rosalind or Rosalie. The words ‘he’ and ‘she’ put more chasms between them than any expanse between universes. Rosalind resented and grieved over it, while he simply grieved. He had once thought that the outside world could not influence his work or his mind. She, who had had to fight for every dent of begrudging admiration, every penny in funding, had never been so naïve, even before they came across the Luteces who were… not Luteces.

 

They were one except for where the outside world intruded, and always it was intruding.

 

There were, of course, universes where Elizabeth didn’t exist. Many of them she had erased before birth. Others… well.

 

“The river?”

 

“Or the cage?”

 

Elizabeth paled, then her eyes flashed and she brushed between them.

 

“Well actions do speak louder than words.”

 

“The cage it is then.”

 

The chalk was smooth and dry, connecting with the chalkboard with a soft clack as a second tally was added beneath the word ‘cage’. Above, it was vastly outnumbered by the hashmarks by ‘river’.  Elizabeth turned jerkily, eyes seeking the marks and her body following after like a puppet. Wide eyes narrowed, “Must you count everything?”

 

“How else are we to keep track of things?” They called after her retreating form.

 

At another place and time they stepped through a portal, a gash, in space and time, neatly intercepting her path. Upon reflection it wasn’t surprising that in many universes they ended up in theatre. “You seem to have lost track of something. Or, someone, rather.”

 

Elizabeth flinched to a stop. With wild eyes and a wilder swing the air flickered and tore, revealing a stark white room. She ran through with whirling skirts and clacking heels.

 

“She didn’t even have to think about making that portal.”

 

“If we could only harness her instincts and use them to our advantage.”

 

Footsteps clattered to a halt, echoing off the pale wall to their side of the tear.

 

“An aversion to cages does make things difficult.”

 

Click, click, click, the rhythmic footsteps neared, at a much slower pace. With clenched fists and white knuckles she stepped back across. “You think you’re very clever,” she hissed through her teeth. “You’re only here because of me.”

 

They shared an almost worried glance. “And you’re only here because of us.”

 

Her mouth twisted, “What did you really mean, then? Or are you just playing games?”

 

“We do like our little games, dear, but nothing is ever just a game.”

 

With furrowed brows Elizabeth glanced down at the chalkboard Robert was still holding, awkward though it was. They graciously allowed her a moment of thought. “Why those numbers? You can’t possibly hope to ask every single Elizabeth, or Eric, or... whoever.”

 

“Oh? Why not?”

 

“Well it wouldn’t fit on this ridiculous board, for one. And all these…” Elizabeth gestured at the top markings, “Don’t really exist anyway.”

 

“Oh they exist.”

 

She glanced up sharply, “They made their choice and they no longer matter.”

 

“On the contrary, I think you’ll find that this one in particular,” Rosalind tapped delicately on the hashmark which had been tallied before Elizabeth’s, smudging it slightly, “Matters a great deal despite its fluctuating existence and non-existence.”

 

Elizabeth stared down at the chalkboard, brow smoothing, voice monotone, “She changed her mind.”

 

“Hm, no. Well, not about this at least, though I do hope she eventually tired of that absurd orange hat.”

 

“Enough riddles! If she didn’t change her mind then she exists. Even if she died, she still existed.”

 

“Having the worlds at your fingertips has made you so impatient.” Robert sighed.

 

“Perhaps if we made the titles clearer.” With a flourish, the dust which made up the word ‘river’ was brushed away and replace with a longer, curling phrase.

 

Elizabeth read it out loud, “Searching for other rivers.”

 

“Comstocks have become increasingly rare.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, “They’re hunting him in other universes? Tempting, but…” Another glance down at the smudged tally and she jerked, “But that universe had an Elizabeth!” She grabbed at the chalkboard with shaking fingers, “She made a choice!” She spun around, throwing the board through the portal to clatter against the wall. She then ran after it, grasping and holding it tightly against her chest. “So many of them…”

 

This time, they followed her through onto the splintering wooden floors. It was small room, whitewashed and stinking of human sweat. In the corner a muffled moan came from a crumpled pile of rags and chains.

 

“Twenty six, that we have found.”

 

Elizabeth glanced one last time at the smudged white rows, eyes lingering on the smear which represented her, then carefully set the chalkboard down, and rose to her full height, back straight and fists clenched.

 

“I will stop them.”

 

With arms that moved as if through a current, she gestured, and a picture, more real than paint, rippled into place before her.

 

The grass glittered with dew, swaying lightly in a summer breeze. Above, the sun shone yellow against pale blue. A crowd of people stood on the bank of a river, listening to a man speak.

 

It was a familiar scene, one burned into her memory. Only this time, there were far too many girls with scandalously short brown hair watching.

 

They stepped forward in unison and she cried out, running forward. “Wait! No! If you kill him, you’ll kill me too.”

 

They turned, some with wide eyes and lips, others twisted and scowling, but only one spoke “We will not die, Anna.”

 

“I am Elizabeth!” she screamed, “That half remembered baby is not me”

 

She struggled to reach the river, but there were far more of them than her, and they easily pushed her aside. Some with apologies, but far more did not appear to even notice her. Already, she was fading.

 

With a despairing cry, she tore at the ground, stretching until the fabric of reality cracked and she fell through.

 

For long minutes Robert stood tense, listening to water splashing against bodies and the bank and a hymn of praise, strained and cracked.

 

Then one of the girls began flickering, turning opaque, and then vanished. One by one, and then two by two, the crowd grew smaller. One girl scratched open a portal, but disappeared before she could run through, others seemed almost relieved, smiling as they faded. Within a few seconds it was over, there were no more wide eyed girls rushing forward to drown a man. Behind them, a footstep clacked on the peeling floorboards. She was pale, with cheekbones showing and dark circles under her feverish eyes. With a twitch of her thin mouth the portal closed, and they stood in a small room with no doors and no windows, empty except for the sounds of breathing.

 

She stared down at the huddled pile of rags and sneered, “The one Comstock I can’t kill.” Without another word she stepped through the wall, and into a bright room, lit with candles and windows as tall as the ceiling.

 

Rosalind laughed, “You hear that Comstock? Yesterday you lived, today you live and tomorrow… well, we’ll see if she remembers to feed you, hm?”

 

Together, and now secure in their place by each other’s side, they stepped through, and vanished from sight.

 

 

 

 


End file.
